


Unsung Hero

by Of_Quirky_Excellence



Series: Half Full And Related Works [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, It fits into the Half Full Universe so it's a sequel? I guess???, Jowan Positive, Jowan conscripted (Half Full Universe), Redcliffe, Right Of Conscription, Saving Jowan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Quirky_Excellence/pseuds/Of_Quirky_Excellence
Summary: After Orzammar, newly Conscripted Jowan is determined to prove he is worthy of the second chance he has been given, not only to the woman he loves, the Wardens, and the very nobles who would have had him executed, but to himself.On this journey, however, the former blood mage nearly loses everything he holds dear, all over again.Maeve Amell doesn't go down without a fight, however.Basically this will be a sort of prelude to part two of Half Full.Please let me know what you think!





	1. True Colors

They had been on their way back from Orzammar, back to Redcliffe. Jowan had been eager to show up there at Maeve Amell’s side, not only proving himself worthy and honorable to her, and Arl Eamon, but to himself.

The former blood mage huffed as the Warden’s party began to slow down in their travels. He was exhausted but in fairly good spirits. Ever since the First Enchanter and Knight Commander had allowed him his freedom, despite the conditions of it, Jowan had felt as if an immense weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The Chantry was now aware of his survival and conscription into Maeve’s party, and they were not pleased. However, they were fairly powerless due to the technicality of the Right of Conscription. Irving had suggested (and the Knight Commander all but insisted,) that a phylactery be collected by the Chantry, with the Wardens’ cooperation and understanding that should Jowan become a danger to others, that phylactery could and would be utilized.

Irving drew the blood himself, with Greagoir standing by. Maeve had been very hesitant to allow it, but Jowan himself was compliant as could be. It was a small price to pay for being allowed to live anywhere except a dungeon, in his eyes. Amell hadn’t expected him to be so cooperative with the Chantry’s wishes, but it proved he didn’t want to stir up trouble, and Maeve was proud of him for remaining stoic during their visit to the Tower. Well, almost stoic, of course. Templars who wanted him dead at every turn, only staying their hands because they’d been ordered to, it was enough to make even the bravest mage cringe.

But alas, Jowan _was_ the bravest mage in Maeve’s eyes.

They were near Redcliffe now, just on the outskirts, and it was often that he’d think back on his last stay at that castle and shudder.    
But things were different now. He was safe, loved. And he had Maeve at his side.

She just wasn’t close enough to warn him in time when her party walked straight into a darkpawn ambush. He heard a Hurlock’s war cry only seconds before the creatures gave away their position and launched an attack. Only one type of darkspawn could organize such an ambush. An emmissary.   
Such Spawn often employed magics the Chantry disapproved of and Jowan knew all too well that they could alter the veil, and a mage’s perception of it. He steeled himself and drew his staff. Maeve was nearby, and three genlocks charged towards her. Alistair’s sword and shield took up a defensive postition and as much as Jowan hated to think it, he knew, in his heart of hearts, Alistair would protect her in battle much more effectively than anyone else, himself included.

So Jowan tried to take up a vantage point, but that was when the ogre appeared. Maeve’s war hound, Mouse, was also at her side, growling ferociously as he lunged for the throat of one of the three genlocks who’d swarmed her and Alistair. Jowan cast mind blast quickly, but the ogre was too big and the other enemies were just out of range. So he shouted, trying to draw some more attention to himself instead of the main party.

“Who wants their hair on fire?” Jowan called out as flames danced from his fingertips to the face of the hurlock warrior who charged him.  _ Do Darkspawn even have hair? _

He’d positioned himself on a hill but the beast still reached him and luckily his fire spell panicked it enough that he could evade it’s attacks, until it fell screaming to the ground, its head a melted mass of burnt flesh. The former blood mage then concentrated his mana on the ogre. The dog was nipping at its heels but it was heading for -

Nonono!

It was headed straight for Maeve! It was trying to flank her and this panicked Jowan.

He rushed closer and prepared to freeze the ogre but he was too late. The hideous thing kicked Alistair away and the dog was re-positioning himself to defend her but nobody was fast enough to stop it from picking her up.    
“No! You’ll not have her! Fade take you!” Jowan shouted as Alistair quickly recovered. The ex-templar sliced the throat of the last genlock and then glanced at Jowan.   
  
Jowan gulped.  _ Swallow your fear, and your pride. _ He raised his staff higher and let loose a Stone Fist- a handy spell he’d learned back after he’d had his phylactery taken at the tower. It hit its mark as true as one of Leliana’s arrows, crumbling apart against the ogre’s skull. He watched in horror as it dropped her and he and Alistair had very little choice but to back away as the beast fell to the ground. The stone fist and blood loss finally took a big enough toll on the horrid creature and it died, with a hideous, monstrous gasp.   
  
Desperately he tried to get to Maeve but Alistair shoved him away, and before he could shoot an angry swear at the other man he saw why. They were badly outnumbered. Morrigan, Wynne and Leliana were the only ones left standing, save for Alistair and Jowan. There were still plenty of darkspawn lurking and Jowan knew shrieks could show up at any time. If Wynne held her ground beside Alistair and Jowan and Leliana took out spawn who got too close, there was a chance-   
  
“Did you not hear me, blood mage?! Go get help!” Alistair screamed at him.   
Jowan was low on mana and had no potions left. They were only a short run from the village of Redcliffe-surely the arl’s men could be of assistance- “Jowan! Go! Go get help!”

Jowan realized he was indeed in the fittest state of all of them to run for help. Maeve wasn’t going anywhere. Alistair was needed to protect her and Wynne might be able to keep everyone alive until Jowan returned. Jowan’s mouth gaped open for a moment, but then he turned and ran off with a nod to Alistair and a promise in his eyes.  _ I will not let you down. _ __  
__  
The sprint through the hinterlands alone when the sun was setting was absolutely terrifying, but Jowan was adamant that he get all the way to Redcliffe for help. Morrigan flew after him in crow form, unbeknownst to him. By the time he reached the village it was hard to see without a torch. Luckily Bann Teagan had one when Jowan ran nearly head on into him, unable to stop fast enough.   
Of course he was recognized immediately by the Bann’s bodyguard and then Ser Perth.

Ser Perth nearly ran the mage through with his sword out of sheer surprise but Teagan stopped him.    
“Catch your breath, Jowan. No one will harm you unless we are given reason.” Teagan spoke and acted as if he were approaching a wild dog. He’d backed away but was now advancing towards the mage, cautiously. His men’s weapons were drawn and then Teagan motioned for them to sheath them. “Give him some space.”

“He has enough  _ space. Blood mage.” _ __  
_  
_ __ “Traitor. He nearly killed us all.”  A knight spat.

__  
“I said ‘ _ at EASE.’  _ And I meant it, soldiers. Allow the man to explain himself, lads. Jowan, what happened?!”   
  
“Maeve....” Jowan pointed backwards. “....hurt....Alistair sent me for help! Please! She is badly injured! There was an ambush...an ogre...”    
Morrigan landed on the ground behind a nearby house and shapeshifted back into human form.   
Then she stepped out into view. “I can lead the way through the Hinterlands to the Wardens. Alistair will not hold out much longer as their last defense.” The witch scoffed.    
“I do not advise we bring Jowan back in his current state, lest he pass out.” Teagan looked disturbed as he took in Jowan’s completely drained expression and desperate words.   
  
“ __ I’m going back. For Maeve.”  Jowan gritted his teeth. His legs were about to give out.

  
Within moments Morrigan was leading them back through the woods in the form of a deer, (after assuring Teagan she was authorized to be using magic under the Wardens’ supervision.) and they’d lent Jowan a horse, thank the  _ Maker.  _ He rode next to Teagan and although the horse was sure footed as can be Jowan found himself clinging on for dear life. Once they arrived on the scene the Redcliffe Knights drew weapons and Jowan dismounted. If his legs weren’t burning from his run they were now!   
  
Staff drawn Jowan helped them fight off the stragglers until he heard Alistair’s voice above them all. “Teagan! Over here!”   
  
Morrigan and Jowan looked towards the sound of his call, and Jowan looked back at her, eager to tend to his beloved instead of fight. Morrigan rolled her eyes and nodded for him to go on. Maker, he’d never been so happy to hear the voice of Alistair of all people.

He was almost at their side when a darkspawn arrow pierced his side and he collapsed.

“Ngh-” Jowan crumbled to the ground, trying to get to Maeve and Alistair. But after he got shot the archer came with a dagger and yanked the arrow out, it was likely poisoned, but even darkspawn do not waste arrows.   
Jowan shouted out, but then went quiet. His heart was racing. did the spawn think he had died? Did his allies?! He lay quietly. He was terrified of being left to die on the battlefield without  _ her _ to make sure he was taken care of.  _ Was she still alive? Was she... _ __  
  
__ Where was....   
As the poison took effect Jowan was fading in and out of consciousness.

Teagan shouted, “We need to move out, now! Get the Warden and her other fallen allies to the castle!”   
  
“The blood mage, ser?”   
  
“Maker’s breath man,  _ of course! _ He saved us-”   
  
It could have just been wishful thinking or the poison, or blood loss, but as Jowan heard the last voice he realized it sounded suspiciously like Alistair.

The Knights literally fought over who would carry Jowan to a horse and ride with him-no one wanted to be the one to touch him, injured and lifeless though he was. Teagan was furious. Eventually he shouted, after the mage had been down a good ten minutes and all the others were already on horseback.

“Knights! You lot get ahold of yourselves. The mage is half dead, you must decide who takes him, and anyone found guilty of mistreating him will be punished severely. Hurry up! If any one of our wounded die because you lot weren’t done arguing then their blood will be on your hands!”   
  
It was Ser Perth who swallowed his hatred and pulled Jowan up by an arm, another knight hesitantly trudged over to help him, taking Jowan’s other arm and lifting him, all the while being mindful of his wounds.

He ended up on a horse with Ser Perth, his lean form laid across the knight’s lap.

The ride to the castle was silent. Alistair and Leliana were awake, but Alistair was greatly fatigued and in urgent need of healing for a gash in his side. Wynne had gone down just before Jowan, sustaining a head injury. Morrigan was probably better off than most. Surana, Sten, Zevran and Oghren had gone ahead with the caravan. Bodahn and Sandal had made camp near redcliffe. They were lucky they didn’t have Wardens with them, because they were safer from ambushes such as the one the main group had encountered.

When they returned to the castle, both Maeve and Jowan were still unconscious and the knights quietly placed them on beds in separate rooms. It was late, and the noble family were asleep save for Teagan. This was probably for the best, considering the commotion that no doubt would have occurred. 

“Ser Perth, send for the village Templars. Keep it quiet. We cannot for afford too many common folk to know Jowan has returned. Alistair will stay in my room, he cannot die, it would spell disaster for all of Ferelden. The Warden can hopefully be revived without healing magic...send one of your men to the apothecary to gather all the potions they have. Tell Richard I will send him coin tomorrow, but we need herbs, bandages and potions and we need them now!”

“Yes, right away, my lord.” Then Ser Perth was gone.

When Alistair was escorted to Teagan’s chamber the former templar was worse off than he had been on the field.    
“Where is Maeve? Is she all right? Sweet Maker, this is my fault...I should have sent her ahead with the caravan…”   
Teagan hurried to the prince’s side and shushed him. “You cannot be blamed for the darkspawn attack, Alistair. I will make sure she is looked after with upmost care, I swear to you, we will do our best.” Teagan guided Alistair down onto the bed and then sat at his side.

“We are sending men to the Chantry and the apothecary. Maker willing, they will have enough resources to get your party back on its feet.”

“I will live… just bandage me up, I can deal with this scratch.” Alistair’s words weren’t very convincing when paired with his facial expression. Brows furrowed, hands clenching into themselves, teeth gritted unless he was speaking. He certainly looked to have seen better days. Teagan shook his head, put a blanket over the prince’s battered body and stood up, encouraging the younger man to rest while they waited for Perth to return.

In Maeve’s room, she lay quietly atop the blankets of a guest bed adjoining the rooms of the noble family, the Bann’s being the closest. Beside her was Mouse, who was fatigued, cut up a little and bruised but otherwise all right. He guarded her lifeless body even in sleep, his massive head resting on her bosom.

The rise and fall of her chest was present, but its tempo was too slow to be healthy. She needed healing badly. Leliana entered her room not long after they arrived. The bard was faring a little bit better than Alistair and had gotten some help from one of the few female Knights to bandage her own wounds. She had insisted upon keeping watch over her friend, even if it meant she got no sleep that night.

Faring the worst of all was Jowan. Two knights stood guard outside his room, but no one stayed with him inside. He lay flat on his back, uncovered by blankets, his head not even fully on the pillow. There was no doubt he’d wake with a sore neck. If he woke up at all.

When Ser Perth arrived the Templars were with him. They brought potions, but they prioritized Maeve and Wynne, due to Alistair insisting he was more expendable than Teagan let on. With the help of  the potions Wynne was soon awake but very weak, barely able to sit up, let alone cast any spells. 

When asked about Jowan, Teagan left Alistair with Ser Perth for a moment and led the heavily armored men to the room the knights had placed the mage in.

“He’s wounded badly and out cold. Guard him if you must, but the Warden won’t be happy if further harm comes to him.” The Bann told the four templars in the antechamber of Jowan’s room. Two walked into his room after Teagan returned to his own room, and two stayed just outside the door, replacing the guards who had previously been stationed there. Apparently an unconscious mage was more dangerous than one who was fully aware.

At the break of day, Wynne was feeling well enough to take a look at Maeve.

Upon entering the room the elderly healer frowned. They’d given the young Warden potions but they’d done little. She was in need of magical healing, and Wynne was more than willing to pass out again if it meant her former student had a chance at survival. She voiced this, and Leliana convinced her to at least drink a mana potion first. The Lyrium would hopefully boost her physical strength and her own healing as well.

When she began to cast, the color slowly returned to the redheaded mage’s face.

Eventually her eyes opened slowly, fluttering closed again when she felt the warmth of healing magic. It felt as if she were sitting comfortably by a fireplace, with Mouse at her feet, Jowan at her side, holding her, Jowan…

_ Jowan! _

She cried out his name as her eyes opened.

“She is awake but not aware. Go and fetch the Bann, Leliana. We’re going to need some help in a few moments.” Wynne breathed.

Maeve’s next few breaths came quickly, her vision blurred and her head pounding. She was hyperventilating and disoriented as could be. 

“Where is he? _ What’s going on? What happened?” _ The Warden cried between shaking breaths.

“Maeve. Maeve, listen to me. There was a terrible Darkspawn attack. You were badly hurt and we are still assessing your condition. You mustn’t fuss. The boy lives, and you can thank him later for saving all of our lives!” Wynne smiled gently, pushing the younger mage’s trembling shoulders, prompting her to lie back down.

“B-but where is he? He wouldn’t leave me-what’s happened?!” Maeve asked, slightly calmer now but still nowhere near relaxed.

“He is in another room. He ran for help, but was very badly injured when he brought Teagan and his men back. We believe there was poison on the arrow that hit him. He is not yet awake.”

Maeve’s frown deepened, as did Wynne’s. “We’re at Redcliffe?!”

Wynne nodded.

“Is he going to be all right, Wynne? Can I see him? I need to see him-” Maeve got frantic again but Wynne remained calm and collected in her response.

“You cannot, because you need to stay in bed until your condition improves. You are still not out of the woods yet, my dear. I will tend to him as best I can, but I can promise nothing, only that I will do my best to get him back on his feet.” The older mage’s expression was grim when she spoke of caring for Jowan. She hadn’t been in to see him yet, but for all she knew, he could already have been on death’s door.

“Wynne, go to him now. Stop wasting your mana on me. I can wait. Jowan cannot.” Maeve sensed the grave tone in Wynne’s voice.

“I can’t just-” Maeve pushed Wynne’s hands off her shoulders with one weak but clear movement as she interrupted the other mage.

“ _ Yes you can.”  _ She insisted. “Go.”

Wynne hesitated but then nodded grimly and took her leave. As Bann Teagan entered, the healer walked out the door. 

“My Lady! How are you feeling?!” He exclaimed. Alistair and Leliana were with him, and trailing behind was Lady Isolde. When she saw her, Maeve almost let out an audible groan. She stopped herself. If Jowan could forgive the Chantry, she could  _ try  _ to get along with the nasty noblewoman, even though she was quite sure their hatred for one another was mutual.

“I’m...a little groggy, but I think I will survive. Wynne’s a talented healer. She did her best, but I sent her to Jowan.”

“Jowan?!” Isolde sounded disgusted. “What is that atrocious maleficar doing back in my castle?!”

Maeve almost shouted, but Alistair actually beat her to it.

“That  _ mage,  _ Lady Isolde, is the only reason my fellow Warden and I are not being torn apart by Darkspawn stragglers at this very moment. So I would appreciate if you refrained from speaking of the mage in such a manner.” Alistair said sternly, but not impolitely. Of course. He put it far more eloquently than Maeve herself would have.

“What in the Maker’s name did he do?” the noblewoman asked.

“You can ask him yourself, once he is quite finished fighting for his life.” Teagan said softly, even with a tinge of guilt in his tone.

“She….is not to go near Jowan. At all. You lay a hand on him and we’ll leave your precious village next time it’s swarmed by undead-” Maeve snarled angrily.

“She doesn’t really mean that…” Alistair said quickly.

“My lady Amell-”   
  
“I hate it when people call me that, Bann Teagan. I’m a mage, not a lady.” Maeve corrected him.

“Right, sorry. Maeve, no one is going to harm Jowan, all right? He is your charge and we won’t hurt him. Wynne will fix him up and he’ll recover, surely.” Teagan said, gingerly running a hand through his long auburn hair.

“That isn’t very reassuring when every guardsman and Knight in your castle wants him dead, Bann Teagan.” Maeve replied with a soft fierceness in her tone.

“Nobody is going to-”

“Someone come quick! The Templars are fighting!” A servant came running to the doorway.

Maeve leapt out of bed, fueled by adrenaline and re-tore most of the muscle Wynne had healed. Everyone in the room gasped.

“ _ You sent for Templars?”  _ Maeve’s face was inches from Teagan’s in an instant.

Alistair and Leliana went running off to see what the commotion was about, but Maeve continued without acknowledging them. “ _ Do you know what Jowan is going to do when he wakes up, and he sees fucking Templars at his bedside?” _

Teagan looked shocked, and Isolde had backed against the wall, petrified that the enraged Warden with fire in her eyes would soon have fire at her fingertips.

“They were ordered not to harm him.”

“ _ I don’t care if they brought him get-well gifts. They’re bloody Templars! Jowan will panic if he sees them that close!”  _ Maeve then turned on her heels and ran for the door.

By the time she found her way to Jowan’s room, all was calm. Alistair was speaking quietly with a Templar Knight, and Leliana was not in sight. She must have gone in to find Wynne. When Maeve approached, followed by the Bann and the Arlessa, Alistair turned to face them.

“Maeve, Maker’s breath, you shouldn’t be up yet. You’re still too-”   
  
“Save it. What’s going on and where’s Jowan?” She asked frantically.

“Jowan’s fine. Still not awake as far as I know but he’s alive and fairly stable. The brawl had nothing to do with him. One of the Templars had too much to drink. The others took him back to the Chantry, and there were only four of them.”

“One is too many.” Maeve spat angrily. Alistair looked genuinely hurt.

“Wow, all right then.” He threw up his hands and began to walk away.

Maeve sighed. “Look, Alistair, Jowan doesn’t need to be treated as if he’ll burst into flames right now. No mage deserves that. I apologize for insulting you...I didn’t think that one through, but you have to remember Jowan is not the only mage you are dealing with who takes issue with feeling trapped.”

“Right. We can talk later. I need to rest.” Alistair took his leave quietly, only slightly less offended.

The other Templar took the cue to stand back, and Maeve entered the room.

Without turning to face Maeve, Wynne sighed and spoke softly. “You should still be in bed, my dear. Those wounds of yours are still so fragile…”

“I needed to see him.” Maeve said, quickly approaching the bed. She took in the sight before her and tears trickled down her cheeks. His face was pale, and his clothes torn and bloodied. He was technically asleep but he looked as if he hadn’t rested in weeks. “How is he?” she asked.

“Not as bad as before, but his recovery will be lengthened due to the poison.” Wynne replied.

“Sounds like someone else I know.” The arlessa’s voice from behind them nearly sent Maeve into a fit of rage but instead she looked at Jowan’s face. He needed her more now than she needed to Stone Fist the arlessa in the face. 

“But Darkspawn cannot atone for their wrongdoings. They know only pain and death. Jowan knows remorse. He knows redemption. And he wanted to make things right, and I’ll be damned if I let a poisoned arrow stop him.” Maeve said quietly.

“I...suppose I see your point, Grey Warden.” The lady said no more.

Maeve adjusted the pillow under Jowan’s head and with help from Leliana she moved him onto his side, the wounded side up. She knew he never slept on his back. She then sat at his bedside, even after the others had left.

“You saved our lives, Jowan.” she said once everybody cleared out. She guessed Leliana had convinced the Templar he’d best not be in the room when Jowan woke, even if Maeve was there.

She began to speak to him as if he were awake and aware. Perhaps she thought him more aware than he was, but she spoke, regardless.

“I’m really proud of you and how far you’ve come. Both as a mage and as a man. Your true colors are starting to show. And they shine when there aren’t templars or chains constricting you. You are kind, compassionate. I saw you give Mouse the last of your jerky the other evening. You see the good in people. Even Fen’Asha. She’s not so bad now, you know. Even Alistair is starting to like you, Jowan. You wouldn’t believe he defended you in front of Lady Isolde! He proclaimed that you saved our lives and he told her off for speaking badly about you. I knew he’d come around, once he got to know you. You’re a good man. I know it, and soon everyone will…”

Hours later, Leliana returned to find Maeve lying curled up next to Jowan on his bed, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, as if protecting him even in sleep. Leliana smiled, and touched her hand to the raven-haired mage’s forehead. He didn’t feel as feverish as he would have before. Were she to guess, he was nearly ready to wake up.


	2. Of Good Men and New Friends

Maeve awoke to a slight movement against a bruise on her arm. She winced, but she scrambled out of the bed before she was even fully aware. Grey Wardens who Joined the order during the Blight often experienced strange sleep patterns, but this was different.

 

Her gaze darted to the face of the former blood mage she had fought so hard to save, and who had rescued her in return. He was beginning to stir.

 

The Warden’s breathing steadied as she knelt next to the bed they’d slept in and she planted the gentlest of kisses on his cheek, running a hand through his long raven hair. 

 

“He’s not going down without a fight, is he?” Leliana asked from the corner of the room where she’d been dozing in and out of sleep in a comfortable chair.

 

“He is a stronger mage and a stronger man than anyone gives him credit for.” Maeve smiled, softly.

 

The redheaded mage gently repositioned the blanket over Jowan’s shoulders, and sat beside him on the bed. It wasn’t too late into the afternoon when Wynne returned. She was stronger now, they’d been able to mix more potions. “How is he?” asked the older mage.

 

“I think he may wake up soon. How badly wounded is Alistair’s ego? I didn’t mean to hurt him...it’s just hard not thinking all Templars are the same, you know?”   
  
“The same could be said of mages. But Jowan here has proven that theory wrong, hasn’t he? His actions saved us all.”

 

“Valid point, I suppose both sides have room to grow.” Maeve said thoughtfully.

 

“Indeed. I think Alistair will be alright. He does care about you, Maeve, you must know that.” Wynne replied.

Jowan groaned a little. Then all eyes were on his face.

“Can you hear me, love? I’m here. You’re safe, Jowan.” Maeve’s voice was soft and her hand was gentle as she caressed his face.

 

Dazed blue-grey eyes opened slowly. “Where…”

 

“Wynne?” Maeve asked worriedly. She was concerned about how disoriented Jowan looked. He was awake but he appeared to be miles away, mentally.

 

“Hey. Take your time, Jowan. You’ve done well. Don’t rush anything. We will look after you. Don’t worry.” Wynne joined Maeve at his side and opened a bottled potion. Elfroot, with some antitoxins mixed in. Darkspawn rarely used strong poisons, and it was safe to assume whatever was on that arrow was plant-based.

 

Jowan twitched a little at the sound of the cork being popped, but he didn’t make any sudden movements. He looked to Wynne, then Maeve.

 

“You’re safe too. I thought I lost you back there.” Jowan said groggily. He lifted his hand up to her face and she leaned into his gentle, shaky touch, taking his hand and guiding it back down when the shaking increased.

Jowan’s gaze drifted to the bottle.    
“Was I poisoned, Wynne?” he asked, in nearly a whisper.

 

“We believe so. But drink this. It will heal your wounds but also help your body fight off the toxins.” Wynne responded with a gentle smile.

 

“Thank you.” he downed the potion slowly, taking a few labored breaths between swigs.

 

Leliana stepped forward. “You saved us, Jowan. Me, Morrigan, Wynne, Maeve, Alistair-”

 

“Alistair...I heard his voice before I passed out…” Jowan’s brow furrowed, trying to recall what it was the former Templar had said.

 

“Yes. He and Teagan insisted you be treated well and brought back with us. The Knights wanted to leave you behind.”

 

Jowan frowned deeper. “I don’t understand why Alistair cared. I thought he hated me.”

 

“Kind of hard to hate someone you owe your life to.” The former Templar entered the room just then. Jowan was visibly more tense, but Maeve spoke quickly.

 

“It’s all right, Jowan, I don’t think he would hurt you after saying that.” She chuckled softly.

Jowan looked up at her and shrugged softly. The others exchanged glances.

 

“I just wanted to say...well, thank you. I know I yelled at you to go get help, but….in doing that, at the time I thought I was taking a huge risk. Now, I know my trust in you was not misguided.”

 

Jowan looked surprised, but not as troubled as he had before. It looked as if a massive weight was lifted off the young man’s shoulders.

“Wow, never thought I would see the day.” Maeve said, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

 

“Thanks, Alistair. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to trust me, but I appreciate the chance you gave me. You’re a good man.” The former blood mage paused and smirked slightly. “For a templar.”

 

“I hardly qualify as a templar. But you’re not so bad either, and you barely qualify as a maleficar, so I suppose an almost-templar and an almost-blood mage can be friends after all.”

 

“Friends?” Jowan asked, raising a brow.

 

“Yeah, come on, I know you know what that means.” Alistair chuckled, extending his hand. Jowan looked hesitant, then he glanced back at the other man’s face. Then without another word he returned the gesture, taking Alistair’s hand in an enthusiastic handshake.

 

“Friends.”

  
  



End file.
